Friday, May 1, 2015

28 Days

Yesterday I realized it was exactly 4 weeks since I gave birth to Liam. I've been worrying over when my period will come back, and I was noticing that would have been a normal cycle. 28 days. And I thought, how could it be 28 days? How could 28 days have passed already? Not just how could they, but how dare they? How dare time keep passing in a world without my son in it?

And I haven't been able to shake that feeling since.

Where have I been for the past 28 days? Now it's May and a whole month has passed since we got the bad news. And I don't even remember it passing. How can time move so slowly, and yet when it passes you, it's like it was never there at all?

I often wish I could just wake up. Find myself in my bed and turn to Kam and tell him about the terrible nightmare I just had, and he'd say, "It's ok. It was just a dream." And I'd look down at my belly, and Liam would be there, and it would all be ok. But I know I'm not dreaming.

The other night Kam and I were talking about how it's all really ok, even if it's hard to remember. We'll be with Liam again someday. And he's safe right now. Kam was saying it's like when you're little and you scrape your knee and at the time it hurts, but now we think back about being a kid and we aren't thinking about the pain of scraping a knee. It doesn't even matter now. That's what it'll be like when we're with him again. It won't even matter that we had to go through all this to get there. That'll all be healed, and it'll be ok again. And in that way, it almost is like waking up from a dream. I'll have my baby Liam back, and I'll get to pick up where I left off. I'll raise him like I always expected I would, and it'll suddenly all be ok.

But right now it's still hard. Your knee still hurts when you scrape it. And at least right now, this feels worse than a million scraped knees. And I'm going to be in this dream for a long time before it's ok. So what do I do until then?

I've always tried really hard to do everything exactly right, and thought that meant it would all be ok. But we did everything right in this pregnancy. And it didn't make any difference. And I find myself worrying now over things like getting my period back, and I haven't changed. I'm still trying to control everything, only now I know I can't. So the only thing left to do is just trust in God, but it is so hard to do. I can't just sit here twiddling my thumbs, waiting for God to work things out. It's not that I don't think He can. It's just-- what am I supposed to do while I'm waiting? What can I even do that will make a difference if I'm not in control anyway?

The only thing I can imagine doing is trying to make the world aware that my baby isn't dead forever. My baby isn't dammed or stuck or frozen in time. My baby isn't waiting as a helpless infant for me to come back to him. My baby isn't suddenly an adult in heaven whose life I've missed out on. My baby isn't waiting to be born to a different family or until I can just get this or that right.

My baby is a handsome, mature spirit. When I picture him, I imagine a young man. He's in heaven, but heaven isn't as far as I used to think. Sometimes I feel like he's nearby. I believe he's busy working hard, making his mama proud. I imagine he's probably helping our other family members we miss. I picture him smiling, all the time. A smile unique to him that I can't describe. I see him as calm and comforting like his father. And he's like me, too. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but I feel like my voice is in there. It's somewhat surprising to think any parts of Kam and I could get put together to make a perfect little boy. But I know he is, and I also know he's ours. And then he's just unique him. I feel like he has a special energy that's all his own that I started to see on his 16 week ultrasound, and I still imagine him with it. Vivacious is the best word for it. He knows we love him, and he loves us back. He's eager to be reunited with his body so he can grow up in our arms like he was always meant to do. But he's not lonely or impatient. He doesn't feel the aching that we feel. He understands this whole thing better than we do. He's with our Heavenly Father. How could he not be ok?

So I might be sad and angry and hurt and confused. But I take comfort in knowing he's not.

When I got pregnant I often prayed, thanking the Lord and promising I'd love whatever baby I got. I imagined that might mean a baby with down syndrome or autism or just a really rebellious personality. But instead I got a baby whose life on earth was meant to be very short. There was no other way. Before he ever came to us, God knew that was what his life would be. I asked for a baby and told God I would love whatever baby I got, and Liam needed love. I am blessed that God trusted me with that responsibility. Loving him is easy. But missing him is hard.

No comments:

Post a Comment